Freak Boy
by MercuryMan
Summary: The life of Sonny Corinthos has hit a snag, and the snag has hit back. Who will happen upon him at his lowest point? violence, language
1. Chapter 1

Freak Boy

Sonny waited on the street corner for Kate to finish shopping in the high dollar department store. Accompanying Kate on this little excursion in preparation for the wedding had seemed like a good idea at the time. He liked to indulge his fiancé and it made him feel like he was still an important man when he could give her something she wanted. But somewhere along the way he had begun to feel like an accessory- a mindlessly nodding and smiling facsimile of interest, "Mr. Kate Howard."

In the close packed aisles of the department store he had begun to feel claustrophobic, trapped in a shining prison of lights, mirrors and displays. He hadn't let on to Kate that anything was wrong. It would never do to expose that kind of weakness to her. He already felt their relationship was on uneven ground and even that was shifting beneath his feet. He had made an excuse that he needed to make a phone call and he would wait for Kate outside.

Now he stood on the sidewalk trying to think of someone that he could call, something, anything that needed doing that could kill the time. Like an answer manifesting from the streets of Port Charles, a black SUV pulled up to the curb in front of Sonny and three large men emerged from it. The driver stayed behind the wheel, and Sonny noticed that the engine idled too fast, as if the vehicle could barely restrain itself from getting about its business.

The men approached him, and Sonny wasn't surprised when one of them spoke with a thick, clumsy Russian accent.

"Mister Corinthos, Mister Karpov would like to have a word with you. We've been sent to offer you an escort to the meeting place."

Sonny glared up into the man's face, which appeared to have been chipped away roughly from Russian granite. For a moment he regretted assigning Max and Milo to other duties for today. With those two beside him he might savor a little dust up with these Slavic goons. Life had been one pitfall full of frustration after another recently, and Sonny had felt the urge to beat the shit out of someone for a long time.

His smoldering, angry eyes darted across the three men. If he tried anything he would be the only one receiving a beat down today. He didn't want Kate to come out and see him after he had been worked over.

"We could always wait for your lady friend and ask her to come along?" The goon added with an ugly, humorless smile.

Sonny favored him with a smile of his own- glacially cold and half snarl.

"Let's go, Boris. I've been wanting to talk to your boss myself." Sonny brushed past the men and climbed in the back of the SUV.

It was always his style to play any situation as if he was in charge. That attitude had gotten him a long way. He believed to this day that it was why the men working for Hernando Rivera had kneeled and kissed his ring instead of pumping him full of lead seconds after the old man had supposedly killed himself in grief over his daughter's death.

The men climbed in and the SUV rolled out into traffic. Sonny thought of different ways that he could make this up to Kate later, and settled on cooking her an Italian dinner.

In a way it felt good, leaving her and the wedding plans behind to attend to something of actual importance.

The SUV rolled on and made several circuits of downtown. Sonny became impatient at whatever game the Russians were playing.

"What the hell? Why are you wasting my time? Either take me to Karpov now, or this little sight seeing trip is over!" Sonny shifted in his seat stretching his neck and adjusting the shoulders of his suit moodily.

The goons ignored him. The one in the front seat got a call on his cell and spoke quickly in Russian before ending the call.

He turned in his seat to look back at Sonny with empty eyes.

"Plans have changed. Mr. Karpov is sorry to have inconvenienced you, but something more important has come up. The meeting is cancelled."

Sonny looked the man in the eye, his mouth a down turned grim line, his brow a thundercloud of anger.

"How about this- fuck you. Let me out of this classless piece of shit. And tell your boss this bullshit, jerking me around, is gonna cost him!"

The goon smiled, like an undertaker hearing about a three car collision knowing that business was about to improve.

"Settle down Mr. Corinthos. We are going to drop you off."

The sun had gone down and the alleys and dead ends that crisscrossed the warehouse district embraced the semi-darkness. The black SUV was parked in the mouth of one alley, blocking the view to any outsiders.

The goons had taken Sonny's phone, they had disarmed him, twisting his right arm so far into his back that he heard a sickening pop and was blinded by pain for a few minutes. They tossed his gun into the shadows as if it was a thing of no importance. They had worked him over pretty good. At first Sonny had gotten a few shots in, but soon he had needed all of his energy just to remain standing as they shoved him from man to man, connecting with well placed, almost lazy punches.

Every so often one would laugh and mutter something in Russian. Then the one who spoke fluid English would speak.

"He wants to know if you have had enough?"

Sonny would answer with a laugh or by spitting blood in the man's direction, and finally with just a ragged, weary shake of his head. The beating would then continue.

In the old days Sonny was convinced that he could have taken this, and probably anything, and remained defiant. Sonny Corinthos would never break- not for an enemy, not even for the love of his life. Only his own internal demons could bring him to his knees.

But times had changed.

"He's asking again, have you had enough?" The demand came again.

This time Sonny raised a shaking hand. He gave a small, barely detectable nod and fell on his hands and knees to the cracked pavement.

He didn't look up as the goons all broke out into derisive laughter, and scornful jeers in Russian. He could hear them moving away, the engine of the SUV turning over.

"You had better finish me now," he managed between clenched teeth. "I'll… I'll remember this, remember you! You'll… pay!"

He gathered himself and looked up, but the SUV had pulled away. They weren't scared of him, didn't even think enough of him to take him off the count.

Sonny lowered his head to the ground and pounded his left hand into the pavement again and again.

Minutes or hours later Sonny came back to himself. Someone was kneeling next to him, touching his shoulder.

"Former Godfath… umm Mister Sir? Are you… Mister Sir can you hear me? Are you well?"

"_God damnit!" _Sonny cursed under his breath. Of all the people to come along.

"Spinelli, I'm fine." Sonny levered himself up onto his knees, taking deep breaths. "Just, just go on, get outta here and mind your own business, okay?"

Spinelli was looking closely at Sonny, too closely, and his eyes were full of concern and worse- pity.

"The Jackal begs to differ. I saw a vehicle pulling away filled with eastern block evildoers. They were the Interloping Russian' men weren't they? They did this to you."

"It's none of your business. Spinelli leave it alone and go back to hacking into porn sites or whatever messed up crap you waste your life on"

Spinelli leaned back and then stood. He pulled out his cell phone.

"What the hell are you doing? Are you deaf Freak Boy? I told you to stay outta this!"

Spinelli shook his head, his eyes focused on something far away. He always looked that way when he was determined to do something despite opposition.

"Stonecold must be informed of this."

"Stop! Spinelli! Jason doesn't need to know a damn thing about this!" Sonny began to struggle to his feet.

Spinelli hesitated, his finger hovering over the 'send' button on his phone.

"The Renegade Russians are Stonecold's enemies! The Jackal must inform him of their latest atrocity! Besides, Mister Sir entered into an unholy pact with their leader. The Jackal must affirm with regret of course, that you can no longer be blindly trusted. I must pass this on to Stonecold and allow him, in his wisdom, to make the call."

Spinelli waved his hand up in down in front of Sonny's disheveled form.

"Also, you could be gravely injured… you need help!"

Spinelli raised his phone.

Sonny ground his teeth. He couldn't bear the thought of Jason knowing that his ill-advised alliance with Karpov had led him to this moment of humiliation. He glared at Spinelli and felt a red tide of hate and loathing for the useless hacker rise up inside him.

Sonny lunged forward, knocking the phone from Spinelli's hand. He punched Spinelli in the gut with all of his strength and smiled grimly as the young man doubled over in shock and pain.

"Somebody's gotta teach you how to take orders again Freak Boy!" He shoved Spinelli back and loomed over the reeling kid.

"Mister Sir… please!" The words barely made it out between Spinelli' desperate gasps for air.

"_Please_!" Sonny mocked, "You are nothing but a pain in the ass. Jason would be better off without you. You can't be relied on, you can't be trusted! You're weak! You are gonna cost everyone someday. You wouldn't be missed, you know that Freaky Boy?"

Sonny continued to push Spinelli until he was against the alley wall.

"I ought to do the whole world a favor and put your sorry ass down!" Sonny felt rage break loose inside of him, turning his thoughts white hot, burning cold.

Before he knew it, he was choking Spinelli, not even considering what he was doing or the consequences. He wanted to hurt someone, for the way he had been hurt and humiliated.

Spinelli struggled in Sonny's grip, trying to get air. Sonny pressed harder, blinded by hate and frustration.

In that moment something unexpected by both men happened.

Spinelli fought back.

He punched Sonny in his injured shoulder as hard as he could, and the pain sent flares of silver light bursting across Sonny's vision. Sonny reeled back losing his grip on the smaller man. Spinelli followed with a solid kick to Sonny's groin. Sonny doubled over and staggered back. Not hesitating Spinelli picked up a full garbage can that leaned against the wall close by. He brought it down as hard as he could on Sonny, flattening him.

In a rage, his usually passive, caring face contorted and almost unrecognizable, Spinelli dumped the contents of the garbage can all over Sonny's prone form. He then threw the empty can down onto Sonny, bouncing it off of him one more time.

Sonny lay still for the moment, covered in garbage.

Spinelli was overloaded, his system still racing with anger and pain. He glanced around frantically for his phone but his eyes fell on something else first.

Sonny's gun.


	2. Chapter 2

Freak Boy Chapter 2

Sonny stirred, shifting the detritus that lay on and around him. Shaking his head to clear his vision, he looked up and saw Spinelli standing a few feet away. The young hacker was looking away from him, and he held something loosely in his right hand, pointed at the ground.

Sonny shifted preparing to lift himself up to a kneeling position. He froze when he realized that the object in Spinelli's hand was a gun- Sonny's own pistol. Even from his vantage point Sonny knew the safety was off.

Spinelli's head turned toward him and Sonny was shocked to see the change in the young man, the alien anger burning in his gaze.

"Why? Why does Mister Sir hate and despise the Jackal so?" Spinelli's tone was slow and even, but it contained nothing but sharp edges, and the menace of gears grinding.

"Spinelli, look… you know what? Just, just put the gun down. You hearing me? Just put…."

The gunshot sounded immense in the confines of the alleyway. The bullet tore through the garbage inches to the right of Sonny and screamed off the pavement and into the night. Sonny flinched, blinking sweat out of his eyes rapidly. The crushing silence immediately after the shot was only broken by the jingle of a shell casing bouncing on the ground.

"Fuck! Spinelli!"

"Answer the question!"

Smoke and hot vapor rose and twisted from the gun barrel. Sonny looked up into the gun's smoking, single black eye, now pointed directly at his face.

"What do you want from me? I lost it okay? It was a mistake! I wasn't going to… I wasn't gonna really hurt you. It was just a mistake, all right?"

Spinelli stepped forward and Sonny couldn't seem to unlock his gaze from the gaping hole of the gun barrel. It seemed to be expanding, becoming the largest thing in his world- an opening to the void.

"Mister sir can't or won't give me an answer, but the Jackal has ideas," Spinelli whispered through clenched teeth.

"You don't hate me as much as you hate weakness. Your own weakness, reminders of it. You hate your own choices and what they've done to you… what they've left you with."

Sonny didn't want to hear any more. He raised one hand as if to ward of the gun.

Spinelli continued, his voice cold and relentless.

"You chose your lover over your son, and he took the bullet meant for you. You chose freedom and peace over your own children- a chance at a new life, right? What a joke! You turned your back on them so you could start over. Was it easier to let little Michael go knowing that he could never again be the son you wanted? The full, whole object of your pride? How many times have you visited him since you had him taken away like a dirty secret you want to hide?"

Sonny shook his head over and over. He opened his mouth but no sound came out.

"You chose revenge and a chance to grab some power back over the trust of your best friend. It must make you angry when you see me- knowing that I have that trust now. Knowing how much the Jackal cherishes what you threw away."

"Shut up! Shut up, shut up!" Sonny muttered, his face a mask of agony. His eyes were now distant and unfocused, haunted and full of pain. His demons were on him now, tearing at him, probing the deep wounds. The physical pain of his battered body was nothing in comparison.

"How many people that you have claimed to love have you destroyed? You talk about loyalty, but you have _none_! You are empty- nothing! Take away your precious pride and there's nothing left! When you feel powerless you find someone weaker than you and you exploit them to prop yourself up. It's pathetic! As if that could ever change anything. That's not me anymore- get it? Never again."

_You'll never beat me again, you'll never abuse or belittle me again. It's over._

Spinelli didn't have to say the words. They hung in the air between the two men like hieroglyphs of fire, inscribed inches deep. They were a Rosetta stone of sorts. Sonny now understood Jackalese perfectly.

Spinelli took another step forward. He held the gun, unwavering, pointed at Sonny's head. His rage still boiled, and he wanted nothing more than to pull the trigger.

Sonny had raised himself to his haunches, and he rocked back and forth.

"Deke…" he muttered under his breath. "Deke was shot dead in an alley."

Spinelli had no idea what he was talking about.

Deke had been Sonny's abuser. He had done terrible things to a woman and child because they were weaker than him, and he needed somewhere to put his bitterness, to vent his disappointment in life. As a reward he had been gunned down and left to die in an alley.

"_Just like this one_," Sonny thought.

"What are you?" Spinelli asked. His fingers clutching the gun were white.

Sonny looked down, rubbed his clenched fists into his forehead.

"What are you? I want to hear you say it!" Spinelli brought the gun even closer, the barrel lined up with Sonny's temple.

"I'm a… I'm…" Sonny muttered, the words tearing loose from somewhere deep inside.

Spinelli glared at him, his eyes wild. He gestured with the gun.

"Come on!"

"I'm a freak boy!" Sonny groaned. "I'm a freak boy… a freak boy…" he moaned as he collapsed forward onto his hands.

Suddenly Sonny vomited onto the pavement in a great shuddering expulsion. Black bile stained the pavement, as dark as sin.

Spinelli felt as if a great weight had been lifted from his chest, and he could breath again. At the same time the fury that had possessed him uncoiled and dissipated, leaving him feeling suddenly ill. The gun shook now in his hand. What had he been about to do?

He looked down at Sonny and now wanted to offer him some comfort, but he knew there was only one thing he could do now that would make any difference, that would be understood by a man like this.

"Listen to me, Mister Sir. The Jackal will never repeat the tale of this night to anyone. It will be a secret kept between the Former Godfather and the Jackal. Our own unholy little pact. Keep your pride for now, but know this- if you betray Stonecold again, if your hubris punishes him in any way, the Jackal will make sure that you won't even have that left to hold on to. I'll take your life apart. Not one stone will be left upon another. And then the Jackal will come back for you and end your miserable existence once and for all."

Sonny knelt with his head down for a long time, trying to regain some measure of the control that he always valued so highly. When he finally became fully aware of his surroundings again, Spinelli was gone.

On the docks Spinelli stood staring out at the water. Tears stained his cheeks, and he felt almost overwhelmed by a strange mixture of shame, pride and relief. He looked down at the gun in his hand. He had experienced a moment of power that no one should ever have to embrace. In a way he had abused it as so many men did. Men like Sonny Corinthos, Alcazar, Karpov, Anthony Zacharra… the list seemed endless. But now he new his name didn't belong on it and never would. In the end he had held himself in check. He had not fallen into the abyss, and he had found himself again.

Spinelli threw the gun with all of his strength and it arced out into the dark water, disappearing without a sound.

Several tug boats were crossing the port with a barge, and their lights reflected and bounced from the cold waters. It looked like Christmas and Independence Day rolled into one. Spinelli turned and began to walk home, thinking of the people that waited for him.

Back in the alley, Sonny began to pick himself up, his whole body conducting its own symphony of pain. He stepped away from the pile of garbage but the smell and the blood and the ground in stains were inescapable. His twelve hundred dollar suit was ruined.

Spinelli had said that no one would know about tonight, but Sonny would know.

Like the putrid scents that covered him now, the reality was unavoidable.

Sonny staggered toward the city. Port Charles, the town that he had once held firmly in the palm of his hand. But the city lights were out.

There was only darkness ahead.

**Author's Note: This story was written for a fanfic contest and the prompt was Role Reversal. All I knew when I started it was that I wanted Sonny and Spinelli to switch roles, to switch power and perception, and I keyed on the "freak boy" phrase. This wasn't intended as a hate letter to the character of Sonny Corinthos or as a bash against him, though I am sure it reads that way. I am sure even Sonny's hardcore fans have to admit that he is a deeply flawed and conflicted character, and that is part of the reason that he has been compelling to watch over the years. This wasn't meant as an all out indictment of Sonny, it's just one little scenario I wanted to explore. Thanks.**


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